#and what's making this work (to the extent that it's working) lies in turning around and saying “no - those are not norms that we'll accept

[eregyrn-falls]

[ID: A series of tweets from "Jessica Ellis" @baddestmamajama on Twitter, replying to a tweet by Vivek Ramaswamy (@VivekGRamaswamy), in which he says, "This whole 'they're weird' argument from the Democrats is dumb and juvenile. This is a presidential election, not a high school prom queen contest. It's also a tad ironic coming from the party that preaches "diversity and inclusion". Win on policy if you.. (tweet cuts off).

Ellis replies: "No, it's not. It is important to point out that the tenor of conversation from Republicans has changed over the last 15 years. We're not just disagreeing about taxes and small business. They want to know what my genitals look like and when my last period was. It's fucking weird."

"Part of the reason the Democrafts' messaging has been garbage for the last decade is that establishment Dems kept insisting that these are people we could reach across the aisle to, that it's all just minor differences of opinion. It's demonstrably untrue and has been a while.

Acknowledging that their fascist oppressive party identity is not a norm of democracy is an important forward step. We would like them to be opponents, but they aren't -- they're something much more invasive and dangerous and I'm delighted to see Walz lead the charge on saying so.

Also let's be real. They have been calling us Lesbian Poetry Fairy Soy latte-drinking arugula-eating polyamorous deviants since the beginning of time. One week of calling them weird for undermining privacy and democracy and suddenly it's so mean and juvenile? I see." End ID.]

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he coos softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?”

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

[vvynia]

smut ramble: ellie reading your body

pairing: e. williams x reader

genre: smut + fluff

word count: 440

warnings: language that explicitly denotes reader as afab, this is literally smut so reader's discretion is advised for that alone and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mention of past erotic choking but overall very vanilla

author’s note: i was straight up in the middle of reading another fic writer’s smut and got a burst of inspiration, then i wrote this. yay !! also, as a black woman, i usually write for black readers but reader’s race doesn’t make a monumental impact in this little drabble x4, so go crazy !! also, these dividers are by @cafekitsune ! the goat.

just had the most random (not really, i’ve been thinking about this for the last week and a half actually) thought of how tender ellie is with you; how, when she has you naked under the heat of her eyes, spread open for her in the most testimonal manner, she presses her center to your’s with the utmost care; how she slots her body against your’s just right. skin to skin, breaths in sync. that harmony always comes to an end, however, when she begins to circle her hips. her goal is to catch your clit with her’s just how you both like.

you’re sopping wet and, goodness, she can hear so vivdly the way her essence mingles with yours—lovingly, carnally, desperately. the slick of you two is hightened by the silence and stillness of the room. after all, not much moves on the acres of a farm in the middle of jackson county, wyoming just hours before sunrise (except the two women occupying the house, of course).

the aura around you two buzzes, and as she grows more needy for her release, ellie’s grunts and pants waltz with your whines. her gait is getting you a little too worked up for her liking, however. she sees the signs: tremoring thighs, thready inhales, lost hands begging for a place to squeeze and tug for refuge.

these make her slow just enough to turn your cries indignant. you lift your eyelids so you can glare your annoyance into her, but ellie’s already caught you in her gaze.

she husks, “keep ‘em open, baby.” she leans further into you to put a calloused hand on your cheek and a soft kiss upon your lips. “you gotta keep ‘em open if you wanna cum harder, remember?”

you do remember.

you remember the first time ellie made you squirt. it was when she’d wrapped her hand into a near-fist around your throat and forced you to give her your undivided attention as she fucked her strap into you at a pace so brutal, you had bambi legs afterward.

though, like i said, ellie williams is gentle today. she realigns your focus by gradually finding the pace she’d kept before your burst of excitement. she splays her hand across your hip, smooches the plush of your calf, and manages to never lose your eyes the entire time.

a cracked moan and a yelp later, you cum unbidden.

the moral of the story lies here: ellie speaks the language of your body as though she’s been studying linguistics for the entirety of her life. to such extent and farther, that is how much she loves you.

@picklesarenice69 - girl, i know this isn’t what you’ve been asking me to tag you in, but i wrote something and i thought you might appreciate it 😂

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

OP I sincerely hope you don’t mind me writing an essay in the tags cuz I have Luis Serra autism this is like. My jam ABDBWHBEHDNDHX

So here's the thing. I do think Luis worked on Project Nemesis in the remake timeline. I tried double checking the in game evidence around this statement, and it's still a little vague but why not. At the time he is in his early 20s which, for a lot of people, is a very high pressure time of growth. Navigating adulthood, figuring your personhood out, and feeling like there's an invisible timer to accomplishing something important are pretty common experiences for that age range. Not to mention just trying to survive at all when living and supporting yourself is being balanced with the rest of that nonsense.

Before the project, I do think Luis was working on standard over the counter medicine. I think his genuine goal was to make something that hadn't been done yet. He wanted to make something there was a need for and he failed. He kept failing utterly at it, and his self-esteem took some heavy hits during this process. This meant when he was offered to start working with his team named on his lighter, he goes for it. He's also good at it. Great at it. For some reason, working with parasites comes completely natural to him. He makes a lot of breakthroughs, and the praise he receives in return diminishes the self-deprecation he might've been lumping on himself for past failures. He's pretty sure he's found his calling until he gets to see what they've made together.

And it's horrible. It's the opposite reaction of what Wesker has with the completed Tyrant. He's terrified. He's confused. He's maybe even angry with everything but especially angry with himself, and he knows what happens after this. He knows with a success there'll be more. He knows with a success they won't stop, so he runs away. He puts a lot of effort into vanishing since he knows he's the key to keeping a smooth manufacturing process, and he's right. They can only make the one, and the issues he theoretically could solve for duplicates he is no longer there to solve.

He probably mopes for a while, tries to tell himself there was nothing more he could've done, and he goes home to see the people he knew falling ill. With parasites. That's his thing! That's his thing he can do!!! That's his thing he can fix!!! The leaders, only one of which he did trust, gave him the gracious opportunity to fix it. To save people. To save the people he knew, and he succeeds. He makes something to save those people only to find out it was a lie. All of it.

It's not like the first time where he chose to make something horrible for the sake of needing a win only to run away from the consequences. This time he went in with good intentions to help people and stop a plague only to become a tool in progressing it. No wonder he was so desperate to help when we see him interacting with Ada in the DLC. He's trying so hard to do everything on his own terms to get the results he wants because the failure of upholding his code of ethics led to the production of a weapon of terror and the success of upholding his code of ethics led to the production of a weapon of terror, so when does it end!!!!! When do his intentions actually have the effect he desires? When can his mind, his skills, his abilities actually help people for once? And then Leon and Ashley appear, and his work helps them like he wants it to help people, and he never gets to bask in that accomplishment!!!!

[byechristopher]

Quiet [0.2].

-MATT STURNIOLO SMUT.

PART ONE.

Author's note: Y'ALL, I have been gone for more than a month, oof.. anyways, I still love y'all. I like to believe that I am back now.. but we'll see. I am a very spontaneous bitch, you see. Enough with the rambling. Matt smut. Part two. Let's go. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long, filthy smut, car sex in the middle of nowhere, matt is a dom, etc. Minors dni! Also, didn't proofread.

I hated how much I wanted more, straight away. I can still feel his fingers inside me and still, that isn't enough. Once the movie ended, he retained his embrace, a gesture I welcomed. The cool touch of his silver chain on the back of my neck and the gentle pressure from the rings on his fingers created a sensation, not quite reaching the point of discomfort.

"Tell them you gotta leave." Matt whispers in my ear and I realise that he wasn't lying earlier – we're going to his car. Good God.

I don't have to respond, not even nod, I just get up (after making sure I'm wearing my pants correctly, of course) and head to the kitchen, where my other friends are.

"Y'all, I'd love to stay for another movie but I have to leave. My roommate has locked herself out."

Lies, lies, lies. But I didn't care enough to feel bad, not when I was about to get eaten by Matthew.

Speaking of the devil, "I can take you home. I have to leave too anyway."

And with that, we were out of the apartment. Not wasting any time, we almost run towards the car and Matt starts driving almost right away. Despite still looking appealing, his hair appears noticeably more disheveled than earlier in the day, and he seems slightly flustered.

My hand lands on his clothed thigh gently, rubbing it up and down, and he gives me a warning glare, "I'm driving."

"I know." is the only thing I say before my hand travels up to his crotch.

He casts me a disapproving glance, yet he refrains from stopping me; he's curious about the extent of my boldness. What he doesn't know is that, in his presence, I disregard all limits. With that determination, I unzip his pants, gradually lowering both his pants and boxers to expose him. The image of Matt glancing between me, the road, and his attempts to drive with his dick hard against his tummy, is one that I doubt will ever fade from my mind.

I spit in my hand and wrap my fingers around his cock, earning a soft moan of relief from him. I start moving my hand up and down, rotating my wrist while looking at him.

"Be careful, Matty." I whisper, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek and I know he would probably fuck the shit out of me now if he could.

"Fuck.." he grunts, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel, his hips bucking.

I lean down to wrap my lips around the tip and he almost loses control; I give it a sloppy kiss and then pull away, returning back to my seat as if nothing happened.

Matt shoots me one of his infamous death glares before abruptly pulling over. His actions unfold too quickly for me to fully grasp; he hastily adjusts his pants and signals for me to shift to the backseat, a command I promptly follow.

Without uttering a word, I observe him as he exits the car and then moving to the backseat as well, internally appreciating the fact that he owns a large, spacious car. I am sitting on the middle seat, he hooks his fingers under my panties and pants, pulling them down and then completely taking them off.

"You think teasing me is funny?" he hums, he spreads my legs wide open, placing my feet on each seat, fully exposing me to him. His hands move underneath my butt, his fingers digging into the soft skin as he pushes my hips upwards – my pussy a breath away from his hungry mouth.

"You know, I kept thinking.." he whispers, his hands caressing my thighs, "..when you came on my fingers.." he continues, his fingers dangerously close to my core, "..how much I wanted your juices in my mouth instead." he looks at me, giving me a small smile.

"Matty, please.." I sigh, I can feel my wetness dripping down already.

"And you know, I get anything I want." he nods, his index finger pressing my clit, earning a loud moan from me. He starts rubbing small circles on it, placing soft kisses on the lips.

Now teasing my most sensitive part with his thumb, he leans in, sticking his warm tongue out to lick my wet entrance, moaning. With his fingers on each side of my pussy, he spreads it delicately as he presses his tongue flat against my clit, rubbing it while letting the tip of it poke my entrance.

"Matt.. fuck.. please!" you can hear a mixture of frustration, anticipation and pleasure in my voice, but it most certainly doesn't make Matt move faster.

"You're dripping, sweetheart." he chuckles, amused. His tongue reaches all the way down, and then up to my clit, eventually wrapping his lips around it and sucking it.

I let my head fall backwards, pulling my shirt up to reveal my breasts – I quickly grab both of them, pinching the nipples while Matt is licking hungrily down there, as if he hadn't eaten for days. He pushes his tongue inside of me and I almost cum right then and there; he notices that, so he takes his tongue out slowly and then shoves it back in. He keeps doing that while teasing my clit with his thumb.

"Yes, yes, yes.. please.." I plead and whimper, I don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

I let go of one breast to grab a fistful of Matt's hair instead, tugging at it and pushing his head towards my core even more (not that it was even possible, Matt was practically buried in my pussy, tongue inside of me, his nose pressed against my clit). I can feel him moving his tongue, still fucking me with it as he rubs and pinches my clit with his fingers – his free hand moves to my other breast, squeezing it and smacking it.

"Matty.. Matty, I – I'm.. fuck!" I cry out but he never stops, "I'm cumming.. I'm – yes.." and with that last word, I shake and tremble underneath his touch, finally letting go on his tongue, which he embraces with love, making sure not a single drop of my wetness goes to waste.

"That's my baby.." he praises and if I wasn't so lost in pleasure, I would've blushed.

He carefully grabs my legs, placing them on his shoulders as he presses kisses all over my thighs, making sure I calm down before we do anything else.

"Matt.." I moan gently, looking at him.

"Don't look at me like that. Your voice already makes it hard for me." he hums, squeezing my legs every now and then.

"Can you sit down instead? I wanna taste you." my hands squeeze my breasts.

"Can I ever deny you when you're looking at me like that, hm?" it is a rhetorical question but it still makes me laugh.

I move to the other seat while he takes my place, quickly taking his pants and boxers off, leaving his with his hoodie on. Before i start anything, he cups my cheeks and pulls me closer, kissing my nose and then my lips. I get down on my knees, in the same place he was earlier, almost drooling at the sight of his cock. It looks big and hard, and wet, and red. Hell.

"Come on, baby." he encourages, smiling while his hand grabs my chin, bringing me closer.

I nod, smiling, leaning in to grab the base with my hand, bringing his cock closer to my mouth and then eventually wrapping my lips around it. I move my mouth up and down the tip, just to tease him a little, looking up at him as I push my head further down. The more of him I take into my mouth, the more it stretches around him, making me drool all over his dick.

"Mmm, princess, that's it. You can take it." I'm not sure if it's a statement or a disguised warning but I take it either way.

He cups my cheeks and pushes me down on him, my watering eyes struggling to maintain eye contact. He looks at me with pride, almost, as he keeps my head in place while moving his hips, pushing his cock in and out of my mouth. I choke and gag around him but thay doesn't stop me, nor him.

"I'm close.. fuck." he groans, biting down on his bottom lip as he lets go of my head, moving one arm behind the seat and grabbing my hand gently with his free hand.

I move my mouth up and down, sucking his cock hungrily while looking at him, almost feeling it throb in my mouth – my free hand squeezes his thigh and my other hand, squeezes his.

"That's it.. that's it.." he moans, "..open your mouth, stick your tongue out.." he orders and I obey, jerking him off instead, "I wanna see your pretty mouth filling with my cum." he says and I moan just at the thought.

I move my hand up and down his cock, mouth open and tongue sticking out just like he ordered, looking at him the whole time. With a loud moan and groan from him, I can feel his warm cum landing on my tongue, slowly but steadily filling my mouth.

"Fuck.. baby.." he moans, caressing my hair, not daring to look anywhere else but me, "..open your mouth, let me see." he says and I know he wants to see a clean mouth. So that's exactly what I show him; he grins, "mm, such a good girl, aren't you?" yet another rhetorical question but again, it makes me smile either way.

He leans in to grab me and pull me into his lap, hugging me close to him as he lets me bury my face into his neck, breathing in his delicious scent, "you good, darling?" he whispers.

"More than good." I mumble against his skin and I can feel him chuckle, his hands rubbing up and down my back, his lips placing kisses on my head.

"You taste amazing." he whispers to tease me and it works; I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks and I'm glad he's not able to see me.

"So do you." he pulls away just a bit to give me a kiss on the lips.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hiiii <3 i absolutely adore your works, I have been SEARCHING for someone who appreciates the sub!hotd boys

I saw that you recently wrote this for Jace, but I've been thinking so so hard about taking care of sub!Aemond when he's not feeling good/sick, the way he would absolutely install all of his trust into his beloved, and completely melt away in their arms! Especially if he has a stomach bug or something like that.

We know how he feels about people in his space, so he definitely doesn't want the maesters or servants near him, so all of his care is basically through his lover 😵‍💫😭

I love this idea! I also think it's very funny how much we all love torturing these characters.

There's nothing NSFW in this answer but the vibes are definitely sub!aemond and also I do make reference to what happened at the brothel when he was 13 so I'm gonna hide it behind a cut just in case.

Firstly, Aemond trust is very VERY hard to get. You are the only person he actually trusts. Sure there are some others he trusts to certain extents, but you are the only one with his full trust. A big part about why you have that level of trust is because of how you protect him and his vulnerabilities? You will never ever let anyone else see him in a vulnerable position. Plenty of people have tried to get you to reveal things about Aemond to them and of course you always tell them to get lost and then tell Aemond about it later. There are no secrets between the two of you, ever.

(And I really do mean ever, not even white lies, not even a lie that sets up a surprise for him, nothing. In fact you go out of your way to always ensure he knows what's going on with you and letting him tell you what's happening with him. It's this constant, open communication that really solidifies the relationship for Aemond. You become his safe space, and he becomes yours)

So when Aemond gets sick, his first reaction is absolutely to find you and ask for support. In fact, he probably doesn't been realise it? He just feels bad and before he knows what's going on he's wondering around the keep trying to find you.

It's because he always feels better when he's in the same space as you? He just feels so much more secure when he's with you, when he knows he has someone who is 100% on his side and have his back.

You know something is wrong the moment you spot him because he doesn't actually come to you and join the conversation you're having, instead he just stands there watching you. He looks even paler than normal. You quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and go to him.

The first thing you do is ask what's wrong and he actually doesn't answer the first time. There are too many people around and he doesn't want anyone else hearing that he's not feeling well. So you take him to your shared chambers and only then does he confess about how bad he feels. You try to convince him to call a maester, but needless to say that doesn't work.

You arent too surprised with that refusal, considering how reserved he is and how much he hates seeming weak in front of others. You're just glad he's come to you. You don't even consider calling a maester anyway. It doesn't matter how sick he is, you won't break his trust like that. He came to you for help.

You help him get undressed and then help him into a wam bath to get him feeling a little better. Only once he's in the bath do you ask if you can remove his eye patch, and part of you think he'll say no because of how clearly vulnerable he is. But he nods and asks you to do it for him. You, of course, gently taking it off him and then help him wash himself. Aemond absolutely ADORES when you wash his hair, so when you make the offer to do that he agrees immediately.

Once he's nice and clean, you help him onto the bed. The moment he's changed into more comfortable clothes he's pulling you into bed with him and turning into your arms. You let him rest against your chest and run your hands through his hair, untangling it with your fingers.

He just lays there for a while, eventually he starts shivering and you pull away to ask what's wrong. That's when you feel his forehead and realise he has a fever. Again you suggest calling a maester and again he refuses, choosing instead to dive back into your chest and cling to you as he shivers.

You wait a little while longer and ask again when you realise he's not getting any better. You then offer to call the maesters but ensure they don't touch him. That's an option he considers, and eventually he agrees. `

You go to fetch the maester on duty, and you give them a very stern talking to because allowing them into the bedroom, making them promise they won't touch Aemond.

Aemond is sitting in the bed when you return, and he immediately holds his hand out to you. You come and sit on the side of bed, taking his hand and then telling the Maester what's going on. The maester tries to say he needs to feel Aemond's forehead, but you stop him mid sentence. Aemond doesn't even need to tell the maester no, you've already stopped him. You can feel how aemond's grip on your hand relaxes when you prevent the maester from touching him.

The maester prescribes some medication and to keep a cool towel on his forehead. You administer his medication and put a damp towel over his forehead as instructed. Aemond doesn't even bother listening to what the Maester said because he knows you would have listened closely and would ensure he follows all instructions.

When aemond is sick is the only time he will actually be openly needy with you. When you try to leave the room he actually whines and begs you to come back. And he's so hostile to anyone else who tries to enter the room, because he mostly just feels so vulnerable and he can't stand the thought of others seeing him that way. You basically have to guard his door for him to be able to relax enough to actually sleep.

Oh and if he made you sick as a result, he'll look after you and lord help anyone who tries to get him to move away from your bedside.

[surielstea]

Sunshine in the Shade

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel x DayCourt! Reader

Summary: Reader can't stay in the night court for long when she's bound to day. Azriel and her have to share a goodbye.

Warnings: minimal angst but mostly fluff

A/N: sorry this took me so long to get out, I was struggling figuring out the concept of the original req, I'm still not very happy with it but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless :) p.s I had to repost cuz my tags weren’t working, sorry if you were notified twice lol.

2.9k words

"That's a lie!" I throw a piece of popcorn at a giggling Morrigan. "Nuh-uh," She shakes her head with a big grin. "I'm The Morrigan I only speak the truth," She shrugs and I roll my eyes, clutching my bowl of popcorn to my chest as she claims 'I'm the prettiest girl she's ever seen'.

"Shut up," I scoff as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me close. "I mean it," She croons. "Azriel's a lucky male, don't you think Fey?" Her arms slip from around me as she turns to look at the High Lady. "She gets it from her Father," Feyre intoned with a mouthful of chocolate cake and I rolled my eyes at the mention of the High Lord of the Day Court.

It was late in the afternoon, so late that it'd be night soon. I shake my head, trying not to think about when the moon meets the stars. I stifle a sigh and lean on the railing of the roof atop one of Rhysand's many estates, staring out at the three males who were flying around each other like boys again.

When I was seven, my father was an apprentice for spell cleaving. He had been practicing warding spells when I had come into the room with a bright grin on my face excited to show him my new drawing. In a moment of distraction, his spell had shot straight into my heart, the effects irreversible. We hadn't found out the full extent of the spell until we had been traveling to different courts for meetings and as soon as the sun slipped from the sky and night began to rule, my heart stopped beating and I was hospitalized for weeks.

So I was only allowed to leave during the day, as long as I came back right before sunrise. A rule that made it impossibly challenging to see my mate, who happened to be darkness incarnate.

I take a sip of my wine as I watch Azriel soar with his brothers, a rare smile on his face that makes adoration bloom in my chest. "That boy loves you," Amren hums from beside me and I roll my eyes, tearing them away from my mate to look over at her. "No shit," I scoff and a snarky smile curves her lips. "No, he loves you," She murmurs, eyes on the three boys as they laugh amongst each other. "I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've been around him, don't ruin that," She looks at me and it's as if she can see straight through me to my bare soul, past the flesh and bone and to my inner core that held the truest version of me. "What do you—" I begin but I'm cut off by a gust of wind as a figure lands on the railing that I leaned on. "Fly with me," A familiar voice says as Azriel bends down and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him. "You won't pretend to drop me like last time?" I narrow my eyes on him, forgetting about Amrens words now that he was here, cradling my face. "Nope," He bites at his bottom lip like he always does when he lies to me. "I know you're lying," I sing and he grumbles a curse, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. "Ok, promise I won't." He smushes my cheeks together. I can't help but put every ounce of my trust in him and believe what he says. I nod and he doesn't need any further consent than that.

He swoops me up into his arms and with a few beats of his wings, we were soaring up into the blue sky. I tighten my hold around him with a small squeal. I had a horrible fear of heights, it was foolish to be terrified of a few hundred feet in the air when literal monsters were walking amongst Prythian but it's something that's always affected me. With Azriel, though it was different, he loved flying so much, and that smile on his face beat any fear I had.

"I won't drop you," He promised. "I know, but," I look down, dread filling my stomach at the long drop. We were higher than mountain peaks. He pulls me closer to him. "Hey, look at me," He said and I obeyed, eyes pinned to his. "Don't look down, keep your eyes on me," He hummed and I nodded. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" He tilts his head I swallow thickly, still thinking about the ground that was so very far away.

"Hey, look at me," He repeats with more stress on his words and so I do, I look into his eyes, at the smile on his lips, the dimples on his cheeks. I feel the summer breeze on my skin and hear the laughter of my friends still on the rooftop. "I love you," I confess, hands loosening around his neck and running them through his hair. He smiled, beaming at the words. "I love you more," He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I grin, then giggle as he dips down onto my neck, his nose tickling it. Cassian soars by with a large smile on his face. "No kissing and flying!" The Illyrian shouted over his wingbeats and Azriel's lips halted on my neck while I threw my head back in laughter, remembering the last time Azriel got too lost in kissing me and stopped flying momentarily, putting all of his attention to my lips instead. We dove for only a second before he regained consciousness. But ever since then, Azriel wasn't allowed to put his lips anywhere near mine while flying.

My head lifted back up and I looked at him with a loving smile, fingers coiled in his hair as he stared at me like I hung every star in the sky.

My breath hitched as the sun began to melt into the horizon. My smile faltered and morphed into a frown. "You've gotta go?" He asks and I nod with a pout, looking at him with saddened eyes. "The daughter of the sun can't stay in the night court for long," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple as he navigates us back to the rooftop, leaving Rhys and Cass.

"I'm sorry Az, I want to stay," I say. "I know, it's okay my love," He places my feet down onto solid land and even if I am afraid of heights, I'd much rather be up in the air instead of down here, signaling my exit.

"It's only for the night," He shrugs, settling down onto the railing of the rooftop though despite his reassuring words, something in his gaze told me he wouldn't be sleeping until he saw me again. "Oh, Az," I crash into him with enough force to knock us both over the railing but he doesn't falter, only embraces me back as I hug him tightly. "Why don't you come with me?" I ask and he tilts his head down at me with a frown. "You know your father will kill me," He shakes his head. "I don't care, I'm nearly four hundred years old, I can do what I want," I say. "And I want you," I cup his cheeks, analyzing his features as if I'll forget them. "Except you can't," He murmurs with a sad smile on his face, his thumb pulling slightly at my lower lip.

My shoulders slump and I wrap my arms around him yet again, nuzzling my nose into his shoulder. "Fly me back?" I asked softly into his neck. My fear of flying was outmatched by another moment with him.

"I was planning on it," He pressed kisses atop the crown of my head but neither of us backed up, just staying in that warm, comforting position until the sun got too low in the sky and I knew it was time to go.

"Bye, guys! See you in a month!" I wave to the others with a fake grin across my features. They all bid their farewells with pitying smiles on their faces. "I'll miss you," Mor tangles her arms around me, tearing me from a disgruntled Azriel. "Not as much as I'll miss you," I sing, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Well now I’m sun-kissed," She holds a hand to where my lips were and I giggle, pulling away and going back into Azriel's arms who was grumbling something about the joke being dumb, but I knew he was just jealous.

"Alright, alright, let's go," Azriel swoops me off my feet and carried me bridal style before Mor could get another word in— then took off to the skies, the cool wind nipping at my cheeks as we rose above the mountain peeks and begin navigating south, in the direction my mate's flown me countless times. "Bye Rhys!" I wave to the High Lord as we pass him. "Awe is it that time already!" Cassian whined, soaring to his brother's side with an apparent frown on his face. "I'll be back don't worry," I grin over at him. "I have no doubt you will," He sighs then turns back without another word and joins a waving Rhys.

About twenty minutes of flying later I knew the sun was too low in the sky to be excusable any longer.

"Az I gotta winnow," I say tiredly, hand cradling the side of his neck. "You have to be tired, plus you still have to fly back," I explain and he shakes his head. "I could fly you around for days." He reassured and I frowned up at him. "You know I have to leave," I huff. "I know," He nods. I lean upward and press a gentle, yearning kiss to his lips.

"No kissing and flying, remember?" He mumbles onto my lips. I smile at the recollection, pressing my mouth harder to his. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I whisper and he nods with creased brows and an aching heart.

His scarred fingers dig into my thigh, searing his touch into me in case I ever forgot it. "Don't miss me too much, yeah?" I ask and he smiles weakly before uttering, "I'll try."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sigh. "I'll be there to pick you up," He reassured and my grin faltered, then as a silent goodbye, I pressed my lips to his, holding his face with enough delicacy you'd think he was made of glass. His lips press harder onto mine. It wasn't lustful or hungry, but it was passionate and full of pining. "Love you, Az," I whisper into his mouth, and before he can reply I winnow away, leaving his arms empty with only the weight of my absence, the bond between us wearing thin as I return back to my native court, a place that no longer felt like home when every element I had of a real home was in Night.

I had winnowed right into the dining room of the Day Palace, my plate already on my spot at the table. "You're late," My father grumbled, I tossed him a glance. He sat at the head of the table, a girl half-dressed in his lap. "Gods, seriously Dad?" I shield my eyes as I grab my plate, deciding not to eat in front of something that would easily make me lose my appetite. "In my defense, I didn't think you were coming home," He shrugs sassily and I roll my eyes at his behavior. "Yeah whatever, goodnight," I mutter, getting to the large doors leading to the hall. "Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks before I can slip out. "Probably not, Az is coming to get me in the morning," I mutter and he utters a curse. "I never see you anymore," He whines childishly, making a small smile spread across my lips. "I'm sorry but my days are promised to him," I open the door wider. "Unless you're willing to let him join us for dinner sometime?" I offer and he scoffs. "I'm not feeding someone who stole my baby girl," He grumbled. "That's what I thought," I nod. "Night, Dad!" I call before slipping out the door, closing it behind me with a soft click.

I travel down the halls of the palace made of sunstone and opalescent glass, taking bites of my food occasionally but I wasn't all that hungry since I ate with Rhysand's inner circle less than an hour ago. I breathe a deep sigh as I finally arrive at my room, entering then kicking the door shut as I make my way over to my desk, setting my plate and fork down before going over to my armoire and pulling myself out of the lightweight dress I wore, slipping into a nightgown instead as I prepared myself for bed, light still in the sky.

My sleep schedule had been all sorts of messed up, I had the sleeping habits of a five-year-old. Waking up at dawn and going to bed at dusk. It was unfair of me to have Azriel spend every waking hour with me during the day but it was the only time I got to see him, I couldn't spend nights with him, and couldn't sleep in the same bed.

I huff as I slide onto my mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin as my black-out curtains do the best they can to block out any remaining sunlight.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and attempted sleep for at least an hour before I was finally able to drift off into a light slumber, knowing the sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I'd see my mate again.

——

I wake up to a light sound of thudding outside my window, then a drumming on the glass like someone was tapping against it. But I was on the highest point in the palace, the most protected and secured part of the entire court.

I sit up slightly panicked, but the tapping stops and I suppose it's my imagination, running my hands through my hair and blaming it on being overtired. But as soon as my head hits my pillow once more the sound returns. I spring up and crawl over to my bedside window, pulling up the blackout curtains with a confused expression.

My brows shoot to my hairline as I spot a familiar winged figure on the other side of the glass. I immediately open the window, pushing it to its highest point. "What are you doing here?" I question. "I missed you," Azriel shrugs and I facepalm. "Now scoot over, my wings won't fit with you right there," He gestures to me towards the end of the bed. "Are you insane? You're not coming in," I whisper shout and he frowns. "Why not?" He murmurs sadly. "My dad will kill you if he sees you," I grit out and he shrugs. Gods, I felt like a teenager sneaking my boyfriend in.

"C'mon sunshine," He sighs, his wings slowly flapping as to keep quiet. "We'll be gone by dawn," He reasons and I stifle a curse before moving out of the way and allowing room for him to enter. Shadows protect his wings as he pushes himself through the large window that he made look small.

As soon as he through I tackle him into a hug, pressing kisses along the side of his face. He chuckles, hand coming to the back of my neck. "Thought you didn't want me in here?" He taunts and I move away, looking down at him with a wide grin. "That was before," I shake my head, leaning down and wrapping my arms around his neck, lying atop him as if I couldn't get close enough to him. "Before what?" He scoffs. "Before you were in my bed," I reason. "But now you are and I don't ever want you leaving," I say into his shoulder and he grins brightly. "Have you slept?" I ask, twining my fingers into his hair. I feel him shake his head no and I internally sigh at his insomniac habits. "Alright, c'mon," I pull him up by the collar of his shirt, towards the pillows of my bed. He follows with a content smile, flopping down onto my mattress as I slip in beside him, pulling the blankets over us as I cuddle into his side, head on his chest, arm slung over his torso while he tucks me in close between him and his wing.

"How'd you get past the guards?" I perk up, looking at him puzzled. "I'm the spymaster, aren't I?" He smiles tiredly and I return it. "Not even the pegasuses noticed?" I say with a frown. "How are you so awake?" He asks, his hand coming to my cheek and I shrug. "I'm happy you're here," I explain and his grin widens, his scarred thumb pulling at my lower lip. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here in the morning," He reassured and I believed him.

I hadn't realized just how much I wanted this until I had it. His arms around me, shadows settling over us. We've cuddled before, on couches or daybeds, but nothing like this, not with the intention of sleeping. There was something so intimate about it, how he trusted me enough to fully fall out of consciousness with his arms wrapped around me.

I smile, a warm fuzzy feeling blooming in my chest. I lean up and peck beneath his jaw. "Goodnight, Az," I murmur. "Night sunshine," He softly replies and that was all I needed to hear before I faded into that familiar embrace of sleep.

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Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

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[mazzystar24]

Being a psychology nerd and engaging in fandom actually makes my eye twitch sometimes because terms are constantly being used wrong to diss people or characters and also people will act like they know every experience a mentally ill person can have just based off a small sample of what they’ve seen and they’ll use that to disregard storylines or people’s opinions or spec

So some things guys that may be an unintentional call out or reassurance for your spec:

Hallucinations CAN be auditory and visual simultaneously (multi modal it can even be tactile, somatic olfactory or gustatory) and there is actually a very high prevalence of this in a lot of disorders and are actually thought to occur more frequently than unimodal hallucinations, and yes it can be in the form of full blown conversations with people that aren’t there and they can be extremely elaborate and complex especially if paired with delusions- so yes the possibility that Kim is a hallucination and we are just seeing it from Eddie’s pov is valid spec so stop being dismissive to people

Also for my brain tumour truthers- a brain tumour is a little complicated when it comes to hallucinations cos it really depends where the tumour is and what regions are effected because for example an occipital lobe tumour is more likely to just cause visual hallucinations- but multimodal hallucinations due to a brain tumour is also possible, a brain tumour also comes with other symptoms too but a lot can be consistent with the spec like for example impulsivity or disinhibition, delusions, aggression (if the buddie divorce is true that works), anxiety, depression, etc.

Trauma bonding is something that occurs in ABUSIVE situations where you start to feel sympathy and love for your abuser it’s not when people bond over trauma - so no what buck and Eddie or buck and Chris have is very much not a trauma bond

Gaslighting isn’t just lying to someone it’s intentionally manipulating them to the extent that they doubt their own sanity (the term coming from a play turned movie where a husband drives his wife crazy by like screwing with the gas lights in their house when she’s alone to make her doubt her memory and her perception of reality) - so no Eddie is not GASLIGHTING buck when he lies to him 😭😭

Codependency is also just not what Eddie and buck have, they don’t base their entire lives on each other and they don’t like have an unhealthy dynamic or have an imbalanced relationship, now yes they both had times when they needed the other to be there for them or help them through stuff or aid their self worth but overall they more so just want to be around each other not that they NEED to and they work on themselves separately like going to therapy by themselves while also supporting eachother by helping out while they do that

[delaber]

Side Effects (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Not remembering what falling in love feels like, Bucky thinks the side effects of the serum have finally caught up with him.

Words: 2K

Just another fluffy fluffshot 💕 (does contain 18+ only themes)

It's a weird feeling, he can't let go of it. Definitely something he hasn't felt for quite some time. Eighty years maybe, perhaps longer - if ever.

At first, he thinks he's finally feeling some delayed side effects of the serum, the way his heart constantly hammers in his chest for absolutely no reason, how the blood rushes past his ears every time he sits down for dinner and immediately loses his appetite, how he's started downright fumbling with his switchblade during training sessions, the constant buzzing in his brain so he can't concentrate at all.

He's asked Steve about it, but he's not feeling anything out of the ordinary, and now, full of regret, Bucky cannot escape the constant worried glances even though he has assured his best friend repeatedly that nothing's wrong.

...at least he doesn't think so.

Then comes the weird behaviour from Wanda who starts smiling at him more and more mysteriously, constantly fixing him very specific seats at the dinner table, inviting him out for all sorts of team-evenings even though she damn well knows he won't participate. And to Bucky's annoyance, it doesn't take Sam long before he too picks up on it and starts sending him the same type of irritating looks.

He starts wondering if the side effects make him look… different? Loopy? As goddamn weird as he feels? Maybe they're silently worried he's losing his marbles too? He reckons he could just ask them what the fuck is going on, but he really doesn't want to give Sam the satisfaction. So, he ignores them as much as he can, silently fearing what side effect might show its ugly face next.

He keeps mostly to himself for a few days - and it seems to make him feel a little bit better - but when Steve urges him to come down for movie-night, he knows he must say yes so he won't arouse even more suspicion with his best friend. So Bucky reluctantly accepts.

It works. Steve looks bright and happy as Wanda places Bucky on the couch between you and Steve, and even Bucky must admit, that he could have been assigned a worse seat. For once, he's actually happy he came out for movie-night as he quietly agrees with your whispered ramblings about what you find dumb with the movie that Wanda picked, but when Natasha shushes you and you laugh and lean close to him, popcorn-stuffed mouth and all, the next weird side effect comes to life.

You have your full attention turned on him and suddenly Bucky feels his facial muscles contract and the skin around his eyes crinkle as he involuntarily bares his teeth in... a smile? Oh God, a genuinely happy smile accompanied by a low, dopey chuckle. He almost scares himself, and he's happy that the only person that can make out his goofy expression in the dark is you, and that you don't make a fuss about it but just smile even brighter as you interlock your arm with his, face slowly turning back to the screen. It makes his heart pound so wildly that he can't even hear the sound effects of the fighting scene over the fear that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Firmly believing that he's definitely losing it now, he retreats to his room and shuts the door close behind him, sending a confused Steve away when he stops by a few hours later.

As he lies alone in the dark, he can't stop thinking about your soft hands on his tainted skin no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on anything else. It makes his heart squeeze tight and ease up at the same time, and he's not sure if he likes it or not, but at least he doesn't feel like he's having a heart attack anymore.

He goes back to barricading himself in his room, worrying about his declining sanity to such an extent that the intruding thoughts invite nightmare after nightmare to occupy his already rattled mind. For a few days, it seems to go around in an endless loop of fear and frustration, but then, one morning, while he's doing his breathing exercises in the bathroom mirror, the all-consuming nightmare is easily pushed away by the abrupt realisation that he looks like shit.

Weird, he can't even remember the last time he cared as much as a ripe fig about what he looked like, but now he suddenly cannot believe he's kept his hair this greasy and unkempt for so long. He looks older, less attractive, a shadow of the charming man he'd once been, so with new-found purpose to start looking just half-decent again, he quickly undresses and jumps in the shower, borrowing half a tube of Steve's 3-in-1 shampoo, nightmare already long forgotten.

The newly washed, weirdly voluminous mop on top of his head makes Sam laugh annoyingly loud, and he calls Bucky Goldilocks for days.

It takes everything inside him to not sock Sam in the kisser, and he's on the verge of vowing to never lather his stupid hair with shampoo again, but one morning while he's sitting alone at the kitchen counter drinking his morning coffee, Bucky feels a small hand slowly rake its tiny fingers through his thick strands of unfamiliarly soft hair. With electricity coursing through his veins, he thinks to himself that Sam can stick it. That hearing you say he looks good while feeling your tiny fingers on top of his scalp is worth every Goldilocks-comment from Sam. So he starts washing his hair every other day, hoping to dear God that you'll do it again. He stops wearing his cap inside, and he makes sure to always put on a clean shirt. Suddenly, it's important to him to look presentable, though he cannot for the life in him figure out why.

For several weeks, it's a mystery, a totally weird obsession that's gnawing little holes in the cortex of his brain, driving him up the wall, until one morning he wakes up from the loveliest dream he's ever had. Still half-asleep, he hasn't been paying the dull tightness between his legs much attention until he accidentally brushes his hand over the area just to feel a bulge much more prominent than usual.

Immediately, his eyelids shoot up, and he grows dizzy from the quick awakening as he stares down at the unfamiliar sight that he honestly hadn't expected to ever see again. Not believing neither the feeling against his fingertips nor the unbelievable desire to be touched, he has to pinch himself just to make sure he isn't dreaming still, but the bulge in his boxers stays put. Up until that moment he'd otherwise been positive that he would remain broken for good. Not even in his many lonely and sleepless nights had he been able to get as much as a twitch out of his dick, and now he hasn't even done anything, and the erection's just staring straight at him, throbbing, and screaming, and begging to be touched.

Suddenly excited and yearning to feel some much needed release for the first time since 1943, he pushes down the fabric of his boxers and grabs himself by the root, immediately stroking his erection slowly, remembering what it used to be like; touching then stopping, fast then slow, cautious teasing then everything all at once. Anything to prolong the pleasure while thinking of cute, pebbled nipples and pretty, red little mouths.

"Ahh shit," he whispers to himself and lets his shoulders slump back down into the mattress beneath him so he can enjoy properly.

His thumb glides over the tip of his head while vibranium fingers massage his tighter-than-ever balls and his breathing runs uncontrolled at the sensation - and that's when it happens.

A spark! The beginning of a thought - a fantasy really - a set of familiar, wet lips wrapped tightly around him.

"Ah!" He's gasping with spit gathering at the corners of his mouth while thinking of you. Thinking of tiny fingers rolling his balls, running through his hair. Of hands touched to his elbow and the smell of popcorn hanging thickly in the air.

Lost in the feeling, he imagines the scent of your perfume, your cute little laugh, your kind nature, how you make him want to be a better man.

He fantasises about undressing you while holding you close to his chest. About lying you down on his mattress while showering the valley between your breasts with sensual kisses. About you pulling him so close he slides deep inside your inviting heat while you scratch at his back, and when he fantasises about the feeling of you orgasming around him and moaning his name in his ear, he lets go and violently comes all over his stomach and chest.

He stares at the ceiling for a while.

What the fuck was that all about? he contemplates when he's down from his high again, painfully aware that the mere thought of you just made him cum for the first time in nearly seventy-five years. Yet, he still cannot piece together the puzzle.

He sees you half an hour later, spatula perched on top of the kitchen counter as you flip a pancake using just the motion of the pan. You look excited to see him and you smile brightly, breathing his name so sweetly that the familiar side effect of his insides squirming comes to life.

…Funny, now that he thinks about it, the side effects started showing up around the same time as you did. The sweating, the heart pumping, the smiling, all the weird symptoms started the minute you sat down next to him and told him your name.

It dawns on him that it has continued to happen like that every time you're near. Every time his name spills from your lips. Every time you smile. His pumping heart doesn't even care if the smile is directed at someone else, it still skips a few beats. And he realises that for three months, he has been following you around like a puppy dog, doing everything he possibly can to get close to you.

He has told Tony Stark himself to fuck off when you were trying to gain the attention of the room. He has sat down next to you every night at dinner, listening so intently to whatever you've had to say that he's forgotten all about eating. He has skirted his eyes over you more times at practice than he's dared counting - more times than he has intended to. He's been lying sleepless at night, wondering what you might think of him - he has even started caring about his hair for crying out loud!

He's been so completely blindsided by his own heart because he's been devoid of any human connection for so long that he'd completely forgotten what this feels like.

Love, that is.

It's different from the love he feels towards Steve, that's more brotherly in nature. This is romantic love, full of the need to kiss, and to hold, and to protect, and to - gulp - fuck!

It's like an ice bucket's been dropped on his head. He cannot believe he hasn't seen it before. He's not sick, he's not dying, he's just completely and utterly in love.

And even Sam has realised?! That's without a doubt the worst part. How's he ever going to admit to that?

It's with heated cheeks and shaking legs that Bucky occupies the seat opposite you at the kitchen counter, quietly complimenting you on the lovely smell of your breakfast. He feels stupid but he has to say something, doesn't he?

An eternity of worried, silent seconds follow, but when you finally put down the pan and look up at him, it's with a smile as if he's hung the stars, and the moon, and the fucking sun itself in the sky.

His heart stops.

And that's when it truly dawns on him. Pulse suddenly springing back to life and pounding faster than ever before, he knows what he has to do. He has to make you his.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 11th of May, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 11th of May, 2024

Question: How is King Charles going to respond to this Nigerian visit by Harry and Meghan?

Interpretation: He is going to let some secrets come to light.

Card One: The Two of Pentacles, in reverse

The Two of Pentacles is a card about balance, deciding where to put your energy, what areas will be profitable and what will not. In the reverse, it says that things are unbalanced, too much energy is going to the wrong areas, things are messy and disorganised, resources are overextended.

As an answer to my question, this tells me that King Charles is tired of having to spend his energy on the Harkles, he is tired of not seeing any return on his investment in his son (i.e. a change of behaviour),. He knows that things are out of balance. He knows that the Harkles are draining his time and energy. The energy is of someone who wants to right the balance, to rid himself of this drain on his energy. He is over dealing with his youngest son and he wants the balance to tip in his favour once and for all.

There is a very strong energy of "I am over this - I do not have the time, energy or patience to deal with this anymore" around this card. It feels like The King might come down heavily on the other side of the scale to restore the balance and tip it in his favour.

Card Two: The Four of Swords.

The Four of Swords is a card of retreat and rest, which is what the King has been doing with his cancer treatment and what he is still doing to some extent now, as he is not back to a full program of work yet AFAIK. It is also about resting and restoring your reputation after a defeat. I don't think the BRF have been defeated, but the energy of restoring your reputation is strong in this card. I think that King Charles wants to restore the battered reputation of the BRF and he is using his time of retreat to plan how to do that (along with everything else that he wants done, of course - this is not his only concern, just the one I am focusing on today).

In the picture on the card, the four swords make an eight spoked wheel, like a wheel of fortune. The King is ready to spin that wheel and turn it against the Harkles, to damage their reputation in the eyes of the world. There is a sense of peace around the card about having finally made this decision as well.

Card Three: The Ten of Pentacles

This is a card of legacy, heritage, tradition, family, roots, etc. I think that King Charles is going to fall back strongly on the tradition of the BRF and on the family. He is going to close the ranks even more and not leave any hole for Harry or leave things undone in the hope that Harry will come back and take them up.

We can see this in the recent public passing on of a military position from The King to Prince William - the role of Colonel-In-Chief of the Army Air Corps. We know this hurt Harry because of the PR he put out after the announcement. I think we will see more of this in the future - positions that have been left 'on hold' in case Harry comes back being given to other family members, showing that there is no place for Harry in the BRF and that he is not a member of 'The Firm".

Underlying Energy: The Moon in reverse

This is one of two main energies of this reading, and of the two, it is the dominant energy. The Moon is the card of lies, secrets, deceptions, things not being as they seem. In the reverse, those secrets are revealed. Light is shed on what is hidden or obscured, and things appear as they are in the sunlight and not distorted by the shadows of the moonlight. The King is going to give the go ahead or has given the go ahead for secrets about Harry and Meghan to be revealed (provided nothing happens to disrupt this energy). This is to restore the balance between the Harkles and the BRF, restore the reputation of the BRF, and to help secure their legacy and traditions, as per the cards above.

Underlying Energy 2: The Emperor

This is the second main energy of this reading. The Emperor is a card of authority, control, stability, structure and protection. It is the leader who protects his people, the father who takes care of all his family (and who does not sacrifice them for the sake of one son).

This is King Charles in his role as King, the leader, the defender of his people and his country. This is the person in authority who has a plan and who is going to carry it out, to restore stability to his throne. The King is going to act as the firm father who disciplines his wayward offspring instead of coddling them.

Whatever secrets are revealed as per The Moon in reverse card, they will be revealed with the consent of The King.

Conclusion:

Finally, the worm has turned. The King has had a gutful of his second son. He is over waiting for his second son to see sense and come home. Instead, he is going to take action to right the balance between them in his favour. He wants to restore the reputation of the BRF, reduce the reputation of the Harkles, and reaffirm the values of tradition, family, propriety etc that were associated with the BRF under the late Queen. To do all this he is going to release some secrets about the Harkles and let the truth behind their actions, which has been hidden until now, out into the light of day. Harry has not heeded the warnings from his father so Harry is about to get a dose of tough love from The King.

The overall energy of this reading is of someone (The King) who is completely fed up with the Harkles. He has run out of patience with them and he is finally going to take steps to repair and stop/limit the damage they have done to the BRF by releasing secrets about them.

Note: The next underlying energy after The Emperor was the Ace of Cups, which is a card of pregnancy. I'm trying very hard not to get my hopes up but I can't help hoping that the truth about Meghan's pregnancies is finally going to come out.

All we can do is wait and see what happens. The King could change his mind, and then the secrets will not be released, but I really hope he doesn't. This is the release of an energy against the Harkles that is long overdue.

[orange-demons-deactivated2024]

Chun Li x gn!reader

it was hard to get inspiration for chun li when all the other fics were spicy in content, especially the art for her omg. but here are some relationship hcs. enjoy! art is by kina nishimura. this was an ask, i forgot to link it rip.

You want to ask Chun Li out on a date? How cute. 

Seeing the extent you've proven yourself as a fighter and as her student makes her feel honored. 

But don't think she'll give you special treatment just because you're in a relationship now. It's actually quite the opposite. 

She would expect more out of you if she's giving you private lessons, so don't let her down!

Chun Li also styles her hair in various ways and would let you help her with it, but only if you have delicate hands. She wouldn't want you to be yanking on any knots in her hair. 

It's not rare that she lets her hair down, but a lot of people don't see it. And if you comment on it, she'll give you a little laugh asking if you like it.

She understands when people stare at her hips and thighs because she knows that's what they tend to see when they look at her. But don't go out of your way just to comment on it, cause she doesn't like it when people have things to say about her body.

Chun Li would want you to be at least acquainted with Li Fen before you ever start a relationship with her. 

She's put the past behind her and wants to live a slow life, that's why she settled to teach self-defense to the people in Hong Hu Lu. 

And if you've reached full mastery, she would ask you to help teach Kung Fu alongside her.

Of course, with a little envy from her loyal students. 

Chun Li is getting older, so she wants to at least experience what it's like to have a sense of community.

She's had her fair share of people professing their love to her, but she would always try to turn them down gently.

Being with her opens a Pandora's box that'll make them run off with their tails between their legs. 

And depending on how you ask her out, she'll do the same. 

It wasn't until you caught her one night, on a rare occurrence that she was roaming through Chinatown as she was picking out a gift for Li Fen for her birthday. 

Doing the same, you decided to join her for the night. 

You've been hanging around them for quite some time and she's happy to see that Li Fen has made another friend. So she's glad that you care for her as much as she does. 

Chun Li admits she's been thinking about you often since you've been taking part-time jobs in Hong Hu Lu.

And she's flattered that you go out of your way to visit her even though you're busy with your own stuff.

So she'll give you a chance once you pop the question to her.

She can come off as motherly and protective once she gets into a relationship. 

She also treats people with the respect they deserve and wants to help others as much as she can. 

But as kind as she is, she won't allow it if people ever judge you. Poking fun, she understands but full-on criticism is where she draws the line. 

No one's perfect and everyone has their fair share of scars, so she hates to see others being super judgmental. Especially if they didn't know you. 

You're her precious student and life partner, so of course she'll get a little protective. 

She's also a traditional woman, so she appreciates the domestic lifestyle. Like waking up in the morning next to you and enjoying a cup of tea in the evening sun. 

Working as an Interpol officer gave her more wrinkles and grey hairs than she could count. So it's nice to take things one day at a time. 

Chun Li can help you pick out some clothes if you like. She likes to go to the mall with Li Fen and look for new outfits to add to her collection. 

She would feel the soft fabrics between her fingertips and find the best deals before she tells you to put it on. 

When you do, she says how cute you look, and to give her a little spin. 

Chun Li is the type to share food and will hold out a sample for you to try. And chuckles when you bite down on it because of the way your cheeks puff up. 

On the topic of food, she has a major sweet tooth. So expect to go on dates that consist of trying new dessert spots.

She's also sentimental, so she would like something for you two to wear all the time. Mostly to show that even when you both are apart, you'll still always be together: matching necklaces or promise rings. 

It's cheesy but she loves it.

Chun Li would love to help you with your makeup and paint your nails.

She never has the opportunity to do it with other people besides Li Fen, so she would get excited if you asked her to do so.

Her ideal date is to find a place free from so much background noise, like grabbing a bite to eat at a restaurant or visiting a Peking opera. 

She didn't have many chances to go on dates growing up, so she missed out on certain aspects when experiencing social relationships. 

Even though she doesn't look it, she gets slightly embarrassed when she's put on the spot. For example, when playing the Erhu, she'll only play it for you when there aren't a lot of people around because she's not as confident.

And she gets bashful when you compliment her skills.

Chun Li would give you pecks along your face, starting from your cheek and landing on your lips. 

And behind closed doors, she would wrap her arms around your neck and pull you close to her body when she gave a long passionate kiss. 

Don't get too shy on her now, because this is only the beginning. 

All in all, she's glad to have a companion and a partner to stick by her side through the chaos because it's not something that most people can say they've done.

But you can. And she's happy you do.

You and Li Fen are special to her, and she'll do anything to put your happiness above everything else.

She'll make sure of it.

[yourfavbunni]

Satoru x Reader (female coded)

Synopsis: Angst? Fluff? I don’t know!!

A/N: I’m disappointed with the bottom half of this 🙂 but enjoy!

As the exhaustion and pent-up frustration continued to weigh heavily on Satoru, his emotions began to spiral out of control. The stress from his missions, combined with his own self-inflicted pressure, pushed him over the edge. In a moment of weakness, he lashed out at you, his frustrations finding an unfortunate target.

His voice was filled with anger and frustration, and Satoru’s words cut through the air like a blade. "Why can't you just understand that I need some fucking space? Is that too much to ask for?"

"All you do is cling to me! "You suffocate me!" "Leave me alone for once!"

His outburst left you stunned and hurt. Tears welled up in your eyes as you silently gathered your belongings, as you had planned to stay the night with him. Without a word, you left the apartment, the door closing behind you.

It didn't take long for Satoru to realize he had messed up. The weight of his words settled on his shoulders, and he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over him. He knew he had messed up, and he knew he had hurt you. 

Frantically, Satoru ran out of the apartment complex; he looked for you.

He retraced his steps, hoping to find any sign of you. His eyes scanned the empty streets, searching for any indication that you were still there and that you hadn't completely given up on him. 

As he stood alone in the silence, Satoru felt a heavy ache in his chest. He knew he had to find you to make things right. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not after everything you had been through together. 

Satoru’s heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the streets, his mind filled with regret and desperation. Every passing second without finding you felt like an eternity, intensifying the ache in his chest. He couldn't let you slip away, not like this. 

Finally, he caught sight of you, standing at the edge of a park, your shoulders hunched and tears streaming down your face. He approached you cautiously, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean those things I said. I was just... overwhelmed. Please, let me explain." 

You turned to face him, your eyes red and puffy, a mix of anger and hurt evident on your face. His heart sank at the sight, realizing the extent of the pain you had caused. "I get it…don’t bother…I’ll just go. Isn’t that what you want? For me to leave you alone"? 

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands, his touch warm and tender. "Baby. Fuck no. I don’t want that; you’re not clingy. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it."

You stared into his eyes, searching for sincerity and any sign that he truly meant his words. Slowly, you nodded, a flicker of hope stirring within you. "No more pushing me away; no more hurtful words."

He nodded, "I promise, baby."

And with that, Satoru pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

A few days had passed since the whole incident; everything had gone back to normal, at least on Satoru’s side, but you still felt like he had meant it when he called you suffocating, even with his constant reminders of love.

You did the opposite of what you told him to not do anymore. You started being less touchy with him. Maybe he was right; you were a touchy person.

A conversation between two of your co-workers made your feelings even worse when they began talking about how guys didn’t like clingy girls.

(They don’t know what they are talking about, 🙄but for the sake of the story, let’s go with it.)

You gave him space; before when he would come home from work, he would watch a movie, and you would be cuddled right up against him.

You would shower him with kisses and play with his soft, white hair. But you didn’t do any of those things anymore.

Satoru had noticed your behavior, and he had tried talking to you about it, but you denied it and lied, saying you were just super busy with your job. He knew something was up, but he didn’t want to push you into admitting something you weren’t ready to.

The thought that you were too clingy, that you had been suffocating him, gnawed at your mind. It was hard to ignore the self-doubt that crept in, questioning whether you were enough for him.

Finally, you decided to have an open and honest conversation with Satoru. You couldn't let these doubts fester any longer. You couldn’t wait for him to get home, so you decided to go see him at work, finding him in his office.

"Satoru, we need to talk," you said, your voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. He turned to look at you, his eyes filled with concern. "What's on your mind, baby?" He asked, his voice softening as he noticed the seriousness in your expression.

"I've been thinking about what you said, about me being clingy," you began, your voice steady. "Y/N," he cut you off. "I didn’t mean those things." "Just let me finish", you said. "It's been eating away at me. I need to know if you truly feel that way about me, or if it really was just a moment of frustration."

Satoru’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and regret crossing his face. He reached out to grasp your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Baby, I never meant to make you doubt yourself. I was just caught up in the moment, and I lashed out without thinking. You're not clingy, not at all. In fact, you bring so much happiness into my life."

His words washed over you, soothing the doubts that had plagued your thoughts. You could see the sincerity in his eyes and the genuine love and adoration he held for you.

"I'm sorry for making you feel that way, baby," he continued, his voice filled with remorse. "You're everything to me, and I never want you to doubt that again".

He got up from his chair, moved around his desk, and reached you. He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "If anything, I’m the clingy one, Y/N."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with affection. The warmth of his body presses against yours, enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, baby." He murmured against your lips, his voice filled with genuine regret. "You're not suffocating me. I crave your touch, your love, and your presence. You're the one who fills my world with joy and excitement."

He trails soft kisses along your jawline, his lips lingering against the sensitive skin. "I love how you shower me with affection and how you make me feel wanted and desired. Don't ever doubt that, Y/N."

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves that he’d come to know so well. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

"I'm the one who needs you, baby." He whispers, his voice laced with sincerity. "I don't ever want you to change. You're perfect just the way you are, and I'll always be here to remind you of that."

His fingers tangled in your hair, gently pulling you closer and deepening the connection between you.

As we break apart, a soft smile graces my lips. "No more doubts, Y/N. From now on, I'll make sure you know just how much I love and treasure you. You're not clingy; you're my everything. Let me show you how much I love you."

He presses you against the desk, letting the smooth wood cool against your back. With a confident yet gentle grip, he trails his fingers up your thighs, teasingly inching closer to your core. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine.

He dipped his head down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Tongues exploring each other's mouths with fervor and desire. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he can't get enough.

His hand slips beneath your skirt. He feels the heat radiating from between your legs, aching to be touched. With a teasing smile, With a swift movement, he pushes your panties aside. He dips his fingers into your wetness, relishing the way you gasp and arch your back in response.

He continues to stimulate you with his skilled fingers, his thumb finding your sensitive clit. Each stroke and caress is deliberate; he can feel your walls tightening around his fingers and your moans filling the room as your pleasure builds.

But just as you're on the edge of release, he pulls away, a devilish grin on my face. "Not yet, baby," he whispers. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He guided you to stand, turning you around to face the desk.

Bending you over he buries himself deep inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming; the tightness and heat of your core filling him in pure pleasure.

His hips start to move in a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The sound of your bodies colliding echoes through the room, moans and gasps filling the office room.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear, as he whispered, "You feel so fucking good, baby. I can't get enough of you." His hands roam over your back, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake.

As the pace quickens, the intensity builds, aching to consume both of you. The pleasure becomes almost unbearable, pushing us to the brink of release. And when it finally crashes over us, it's like an explosion of pure bliss—waves of pleasure cascading through your bodies.

He holds you close, his body still connected to yours, as you ride out the waves of orgasm together. Your breathing gradually slows, and he presses a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck.

He pulls you into a tender embrace. "Y/N," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine adoration. "I love you so much".

.

.

.

[acre-of-wheat]

I know in this house we’re all about supporting Kit’s wrongs, but I do want to take some time to analyze another dear sword lesbian’s wrongs.

Our dearest Jade Claymore.

You’re telling me this face has done wrongs?

Sadly. Yes.

The High Aldwin

Elora disappears into the woods and Kit wants to set off to continue the mission. Jade has other feelings, and drops this statement about what they owe Elora. It’s an interesting moment, because only an episode ago it was, “where the princess goes, I go,” but Kit rides off alone.

I think Jade knows Kit well enough that she fully expected to catch up to her. To save face, Kit couldn’t turn around and go back, but she could certainly take her sweet time walking down the road.

Later on they discuss Elora’s inability to demonstrate magic, and Kit once again wants to keep moving forward to continuing the mission, and Jade has this to say.

This is just a straight up lie, girl! Sorsha’s last instruction to her is to stay with Kit, to guide her, to pull her back from the edge.

I think this is an intentional tactic from Jade though. Jade has very subtle ways that she manages to manipulate or instruct Kit. Because of their difference in station, their history together, and Kit’s stubbornness, direct conflict doesn’t really work. Jade’s weapon for influencing Kit is showing her disappointment in the princess or, in some cases, outright lying.

I think there is an important call back to this, in Children of the Wyrm, where Jade goes over the edge of the world not to save Airk, or for Elora or Sorsha, but just for Kit. Because for once love is more important than duty.

The Battle of the Slaughtered Lamb

The reveal that this relationship was orchestrated by Sorsha is a huge blow, but the last line here is the real betrayal. If Jade didn’t ever believe that Kit would be in a life or death situation, then all of Kit’s dreams, all of her plans and fantasies, were just that to Jade-- so much make believe.

I think we give Kit a lot of shit for her mistakes, but she does always apologize. It’s worth noting that there is no apology from Jade here.

Whispers of Nockmaar

Hmm, I can think of someone who could have used your backup about this about an hour ago...

The Wildwood

By far my favorite Jade wrong.

Kit is actually trying to negotiate a release-- and it probably would have worked too!-- and the typically so in control knight with her anger on a tight leash just can’t keep it together enough for it to work.

Love this for her. Get everyone killed, babe.

Prisoners of Skellin

This is not technically a wrong! But it is a type of betrayal for Kit that I think is worth discussing, because these two absolutely won’t.

The devastation.

What is most interesting about this is even though Jade is the one to bodily remove Kit from the tomb, Kit’s rage focuses solely on Elora. It’s Elora she blames for not reuniting with her father, it’s Elora she vents her frustration on.

I don’t think Kit is even capable of remaining angry at Jade, because for Kit, Jade is all she has, and she can’t risk chasing her away. When Jade tells her that she’s leaving for Galladoorn, Kit pitches a fit, but then comes to her with a kiss and a smile in the night. When Kit learns that Jade lied about her training, Kit avoids her for awhile, but all she says is, “I’m just glad you told me.”

So when Jade wraps her arms around her and drags her away from the father she’s been missing her whole life? That rage has to go somewhere else.

The Gales

We’re going all the way back to the beginning with the last one, because it is the only one I can’t defend Jade on. It’s not her accepting a place with the Shining Legion, or even picking the absolute worst time to tell her best friend that she’s leaving, it’s this.

For what, Jade? There is literally no more time left for Kit. Jade is consumed by her dedication to duty, to such an extent that she believes that extremely queer Kit should marry a man she doesn’t know, to have heirs she doesn’t want.

What are our responsibilities to those we lead? To our parents? To our loved ones? To ourselves?

Must we all give up something for what we believe in, or is love the most powerful force in the universe? What mantel from our parents is worth picking up, and which is worth running away from?

The show hasn’t answered all these questions yet, but I hope it has time to explore them, and I know that Jade will be an important part of that exploration.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Connection Spell Part 4

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys try and figure out how to help you with your chronic illness. Warnings: Chronic illness, discussions of invasive monitoring Note: Suggestions here are not necessarily good ones, or healthy ones, but there's a learning curve here. Series Masterlist

The room is dim, lit only by the flickering embers in the fireplace. The last vestiges of warmth cast long shadows across your accessible bedroom, where you're curled up on the bed, asleep. James lies on one side of you, his glasses set aside and his arm thrown protectively over your waist. On your other side, Sirius's steady breathing matches the rise and fall of your own chest. Remus sits in a chair nearby, a book forgotten in his lap as he watches the three of you.

Silence settles like a blanket, heavy with unspoken thoughts and lingering questions. Despite the peace that surrounds you now, the memory of pain—your pain—is still fresh in their minds. It’s been four days since James and Sirius experienced firsthand what a "good" day feels like for you, and despite your assurances that it never gets much better than this, the revelation has left them reeling.

How can they have not known? How could they have missed the signs—the wince of pain hidden behind a smile, the fatigue mistaken for exhaustion after a long day?

James doesn't know how to process what he's feeling. As someone who has always prided himself on taking care of others, especially you, the fact that he was unaware of the full extent of your daily struggles gnaws at him. He shifts slightly, careful not to wake you, and glances at Sirius and Remus. Their expressions mirror his own—a mix of guilt and determination.

They've spent the past few days brainstorming, researching, trying to figure out ways to make things easier for you. They don’t want to see you struggle more than necessary, and they feel a deep sense of responsibility to support you however they can.

But it's frustrating, James thinks, clenching his jaw. Every minute they spend planning is a minute lost, another moment you have to endure this invisible battle alone. And while he knows that rushing into solutions without thinking them through can do more harm than good, he can't help but feel an urgent need to do something, anything, to ease your burden.

"Maybe we can put a monitoring charm on her," James suggests, breaking the silence. His voice is quiet but firm, relaying both his concern and an underlying confidence that they will find solutions. "Something that will alert us when her symptoms are worse than usual."

Sirius turns to face him, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "That could work," he agrees slowly, considering the idea. "But we also need to be there for her physically. Make sure one of us is always around, especially during flare-ups." He pauses, tracing absent patterns on your arm. "And help with things... things she might not ask for because she's so used to doing them herself despite the pain."

Remus nods from his chair, a deep furrow creasing his brow as he weighs their words. There is truth in what they're saying—they should have been more attentive, more present. But he also understands that you value your independence, even if it often comes at a cost. The last thing he wants to do is make you feel smothered or incapable.

"We need to strike a balance," Remus says finally, adjusting his grip on the book in his lap. "Be there for Y/N without making her feel like we're taking over."

It's this intricate dance—the push and pull of care and autonomy—that adds another layer of complexity to their relationship with you. It already requires careful navigation; throw in a chronic illness, and the map becomes even more convoluted. But none of them would trade it for anything else. They love you—deeply, fiercely—and this shared commitment fuels their determination to support you through every painful moment.

The room grows quiet again, save for the soft crackling of the dying embers and the occasional rustle of sheets. Thoughts continue to churn, plans form and reform, all centred around you and how to make your life just a little bit easier. While uncertainty lingers, so does resolve—a testament to the depth of their feelings for you.

"What about keeping her room stocked with things that help?" Sirius suggests, his mind racing despite the late hour. "Snacks, drinks, anything that stabilises blood pressure or keeps her from getting too dizzy."

James nods, appreciating the practicality of the idea. It's a small step, but every bit helps when it comes to managing something as unpredictable as chronic illness.

"Right," he says, running a hand through his hair. "And maybe we can find shortcuts for her between classes so she doesn't have to exert herself as much.”

The embers glow faintly in the dimness, casting long shadows across the room. Their faces are etched with worry and determination—boys who are slowly coming to terms with a reality they wish they could change for you. But they're also filled with resolve, each one committed to doing whatever it takes to make your journey just a little bit easier.

You stir slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The boys freeze, their eyes locked on you, but your breathing soon evens out again. They exchange relieved glances before sinking back into their thoughts, the weight of the past few days pressing down on them like a heavy cloak.

They've been at this for hours now, brainstorming and researching ways to make things more manageable for you. Even in the quiet, the air is thick with their shared concern—a tangible force that binds them together in this moment of adversity. James rubs his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache creep in, but he pushes it aside. Right now, you are all that matters.

"We need to figure out how to reduce how much she has to wheel herself around," Remus adds, looking up from the book he’s been scanning for useful spells. "It might not seem like a lot, but every bit of energy saved counts."

Sirius grunts in agreement, his gaze never leaving your sleeping form. "Especially on bad days, but she does let us push her when needed."

"But this still leaves us with the question of balance," James muses aloud. His fingers drum against his leg, a rhythmic beat that echoes his racing thoughts. "How do we do all this without making Y/N feel... I don't know... smothered?"

Remus closes the book with a soft thud, leaning back in his chair. "By being honest with her," he replies simply. "We let her know what we're planning, why we're doing it, and always give her the space to say no or suggest alternatives."

There's a pause as they consider this, the tension easing slightly. This isn't about taking control away from you—it's about giving you more control over your condition and its impact on your life. And while part of them wishes they could shoulder this burden entirely, they understand that respecting your autonomy is equally important.

"What if... what if we offer to help with things like massages or applying muscle rubs?" Remus’s voice is hesitant at first, but gains confidence as he continues. "Y/N has mentioned before how those can help ease pain, only they take energy she often doesn’t have."

He looks up from where his fingers have been tracing invisible patterns on the armrest, meeting the eyes of his friends. There’s an earnestness in his expression that speaks volumes about his concern for you, their shared partner who lies just a room away, oblivious to the late-night council held in her name.

"We could do that, couldn't we? When the pain gets bad, one of us could be there to help."

The implications are vast, reaching far beyond the physical act of providing relief. It means breaking down barriers, crossing into territories marked by vulnerability and trust—a step not taken lightly in any relationship, let alone one as intricately woven as theirs.

James nods slowly, considering the proposal. "That sounds reasonable enough. If Y/N is comfortable with it, I don't see why not. It would save her some strength, too."

"And perhaps..." The words trail off as Remus loses himself in thought again, the gears behind his amber eyes shifting and turning.

"Perhaps what?" Sirius prods after a moment, curiosity piqued despite the heavy lids threatening to close over his grey eyes.

Remus straightens, pushing back the sleeves of his worn jumper. "I was thinking that maybe we should learn more about her conditions. Not just from what Y/N tells us, but from other sources as well."

He reaches for another book, flipping through its pages without really seeing them. It's more of a nervous habit than anything else, a way to channel the restless energy coursing through him.

"I mean, we have access to the library and all sorts of texts, both magical and Muggle. We might find something useful—something that hasn't been tried yet, or even just better ways to manage symptoms."

There's a pause as James and Sirius process this, the idea so simple yet somehow overlooked until now. Of course they should learn more; knowledge is power, after all, especially when it comes to combating something as unpredictable as chronic illness.

It falls within Remus' nature to suggest such a thing—he's always been the researcher, the strategist. Where others might rush headlong into a situation, Remus hangs back, assessing and planning until he knows the best course of action. And right now, the best course of action is clear: They need to understand your health as much as possible, leaving no stone unturned in their quest to support you.

“We'll talk to her about it tomorrow," James decides, pushing himself off the bed. His muscles protest the movement, a stark reminder of the late hour. But despite the fatigue pulling at his limbs, there's a newfound energy coursing through him. It's not unlike the adrenaline rush after a Quidditch match—exhilarating and exhausting all at once.

Yeah," Sirius agrees, stifling a yawn behind his hand. "She should be part of the planning."

The room grows quiet again, save for the soft crackling of the dying embers and the occasional rustle of sheets. Thoughts continue to churn, plans form and reform, all centred around you and how to make your life just a little bit easier. While uncertainty lingers, so does resolve—a testament to the depth of their feelings for you.

James rubs his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache creep in, but he pushes it aside. Right now, you are all that matters.

"Whatever we do," he murmurs, "we can't let her push herself too hard."

"Agreed," Remus says, closing another book with a sigh. "We'll need to be careful, mindful of her limits even when she isn't."

Sirius nods, pressing closer to you as if to shield you from any potential harm. His arm tightens around you protectively, a silent vow woven into the rhythm of your shared breaths.

"We'll figure it out," he whispers into the darkness, "for Y/N."

The room feels lighter, the weight of their concerns shared among them. They’re determined to make your life easier, to show their love not only in grand gestures but in the small, everyday ways that matter.

For now, though, they stay where they are, curled protectively around you, knowing that when you wake, they’ll face the next steps together.

[posletsvet]

Satoru Gojo and the Infinity That Sets Him Apart

Throught the flashback arc that opens JJK'S second season, the story goes to great lengths to make us sympathize with Geto. We are privy to the inner workings of his mind when he faces personal catastrophes of his youth, and it grants us a profound insight into how his mental/emotional state deteriorates in response to a painful realization that later comes to define his entire life. Gege found a way to turn Geto's tendency to internalize his experiences into a narrative tool, the mechanics of his Cursed Technique becoming an apt metaphor for it, and that's one truly astonishing writing.

But what about Gojo? After all, it's his memories that play out before our eye as he daydreams, and Geto is no longer an active force in the narrative, so the arc should be introduced in the first place to shed some light on Satoru's character and highlight certain aspects of it. However, while the narrative goes out of its way to humanize Geto by exposing his interiority to the audience, it seems to bit by bit deny readers access to Gojo's mind until Satoru is entirely closed off emotionally at the end of Hidden Inventory Arc. From that point on, any reading of his words and actions can be as good as the other since personal interpretation is all that is left to us to try and understand what lies behind the appearances (I guess that's precisely why there are so many widely different, conflicting interpretations of Gojo out there). What process Gojo's character undergoes throughout his past arc is, essentially, dehumanization.

Let's take a look at Gojo as he is in the main, present timeline. Pretty much as any other person in Gojo's vicinity, the audience can only observe him from the outside, always held at an arm's length away from his interior thoughts and emotions. Whenever we do get an insight into his mind, it's mostly for a solely practical purpose of keeping the readers informed about the direction which the fight is about to take, with Satoru's internal monologues consisting almost completely of him dryly strategizing against his opponents.

Even Gojo's design is set to dehumanize him, teasing the audience with how much it conceals and how little it allows us to derive from what we see. Plain black clothes, long sleeves, long trousers, high collar. Barely any skin exposed, scarce detail, completely colourless expression. To crown it all, his blindfold -- we do not get to see his eyes. Eyes mirror the soul, they communicate emotion which our words fail to. Eye contact is a primal tool of non-verbal communication because of how much our eyes alone can give away about our feelings. With Gojo's eyes perpetually hidden under his ever-present blindfold, there's an additional layer of protection, another hindrance to our understanding of his state of mind. A simple piece of cloth adds to the distance preventing access to Gojo's direct perspective, as impenetrable as trying to look through a blindfold would be for anyone but Gojo himself. The same could be applied even to his height: people around him are required to reach up with their gaze in order to look him in the face. Once again, this choice in his design strives to communicate one thing: you cannot meet him at his level, there is a palpable distance between where he stands and where you are. Everything about Gojo feels almost impersonal, evasive, further increasing the extent of his alienation.

There's an interesting connection found between Gojo's technique, his need to cover his eyes and the narrative distance that does not allow us to get any closer to his character. It's precisely when Gojo puts his mind to perfecting his usage of the Limitless that an unbreachable impediment settles between him and the people around, resulting in him and Geto from that point on being forever unable to get through to each other. With his technique taking a toll on his body by becoming more overwhelming to use after such a rapid increase in power, it's also when Gojo starts to wear his shades all the time. And whereas before we were allowed to look past the tanned spectacles and see his eyes, read the emotion in them, now we're denied even that much. It's probably a short after Geto's defection when Satoru switches to a blindfold, indicating how he completely shuts off emotionally. Just as Geto's Curse Manipulation stands as a metaphor for him repressing his feelings till the breaking point, Gojo's mental state is reflected through the physical appearance, too. Him physically distancing himself from everything within the world around him with his Limitless technique sustaining an uncrossable invisible barrier around him and his blindfold hiding his eyes from the viewer is also how his emotional detachment is established on the meta level of the narrative.

Since Geto's defection, Gojo's defenses are breached in the main timeline just once, and that is during Shibuya Incident Arc. It's barely a coincidence that, as the Limitless falls short and the ever-present physical distance is crossed sharply with the Prison Realm reaching Gojo, the emotional distance is immeadiately eliminated, too.

All defenses down and the memories of his youth flooding through the cracks, Gojo suddenly isn't numb to all the hurt of his past mistakes and what it cost him and the people around him; all the ache of losing his best friend not once but twice and being utterly unable to do anything about it still weighs on him. Neither is numb to all of it the reader, not anymore. The narrative 'catches up' to Gojo at this moment. It was an alienating, almost inhumane experience to never get a sight of Gojo's emotions when it mattered the most, at the pivotal events of his life which come to shape him as a character and as a person. We were simply denied that intimacy. But with Satoru's physical body made within reach and his mind suddenly transparent, laid bare, the delayed heartbreak is alive and present as ever. The weakness of his human heart is exposed, but it required crossing the Infinity to get to his heart.

The physical distance is only breached because the emotional one is eliminated beforehand. However, we finally get to catch a glimpse of Gojo's true feelings because something within the world was able to reach him physically, penetrating through his Limitless technique. The two are the sides of the one coin, they go hand in hand within the narrative, ultimately rendered inseperable by it. At the end of the day, the body is the soul and the soul is the body.

I've started writing all this well before the spoilers for the last chapter came out, but what we see in it, at least how I personally take it, speaks in favour of pretty much everything I've been talking about above. It's somewhat notorious how little emotional impact Gojo's fight against Sukuna lands. Until now. Until Gojo's Infinity utterly fails to prevent his body from taking the damage. Once again we gain insight into his interiority the instance he's physically exposed to the world. With Gojo's invulnerability ultimately overcome, the narrative grants us access to his inner feelings and thoughts one last time. Satoru's heart is an aching wound split open one last time.